A Numbing Pain
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: Bender usually ends up walking around town when he needs to escape, even when the cold wind whips around him cruelly. In fact, the cold is the only thing that he can stand to face sometimes.


This wind, so cold and biting, consumed his thought. No matter where his mind wandered, it always came back to this wind. It sliced through his clothes and pummeled his skin. The Windy City sure had damn cold winters, and its shitty outlying small towns were just as bad. John Bender always ended up wandering the streets, looking nonchalant as he walked against the wind.

It was better than being home. The cold kept his thoughts focused. He couldn't remember, couldn't question anything when his instinctively cursed the cold every few seconds. When he had to check that his jacket was wrapped securely enough, that his teeth weren't chattering too loudly. This was a good feeling. His cheeks burned with the cold and his fingertips were numb. It was a kind of pain that took away pain.

Leaning against a wall just let the cool wood draw the heat from his body, and sitting allowed the frosty concrete to make him even colder, so he just kept walking. His stomach growled and his throat was dry, but the cold kept him from noticing to much. His eyelids drooped and he staggered over subtle curbs, but he never fell.

No, this cold was good. He'd never feel comfortable in a warm house, anyway. On a soft bed. With a full fridge and anything but beer to drink. No, that would just be too much. All he needed was his weed and the cold. Not that he could afford anything else. When his stash thinned out, the cold was all he had. He's head out to parties, football games, even fights, just for the walk. When he got there, he'd bum a cigarette, pour himself a beer, maybe hook up with some shameless women, then leave.

Tonight, his dad was on a real bender. Real drunk, real pissed. He'd already thrown John into a wall and thrown a beer bottle at the downed teen, but now he was really coming at him. John had been out for hours, walking around in the cold, and when he got back, his dad had found his stash. He'd expected a beating, but it was worse than usual. This one left him sprawled on the living room floor, unable to get up. His father sneered at him and plopped down on the couch, grabbing a beer from the floor and watching his football game once more.

John wheezed and jerked, trying to move. His eyes squeezed shut and he bit his lip. He couldn't do this. He'd lie here, pass out, and his dad would kick him every time he passed by. Bender was pretty sure that he had broken bones, but he couldn't tell where. A lot of things just hurt from impact with the wall or fists. His head was bleeding, and a fresh bruise was probably blooming on his throat. He was going to throw up if he moved. He was going to pay if he didn't.

Then, something happened that made both Benders' minds reel.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Get the damn door, boy." John's father growled after a moment of confusion. John tried to get up, but he fell back down. This time, he turned over onto his front and then tried to get to his knees, but the pain made him heave.

His father grumbled and stood, advancing on his shaking son. John tried one more time before his dad grasped his shoulders and pulled him up onto his feet, where he swayed, then shoved him toward the door. John's body collided with the door. He waited until his dad snarled in anticipation, then straightened himself up and ran a hand through his hair as he opened the door with the other hand.

He leaned into the door frame and only opened the door a few inches, but froze when he saw who stood there, about to knock again. Sporto.

"Uh... hey. I was... um, do you want to get a slice... or something?" Andy asked, suddenly regretting his very idiotic idea to reach out to the reclusive criminal. Bender looked like shit.

Bender looked him up and down for a minute, then behind him. One glance at the look on his dad's face, promising another beating, and he decided.

"Yeah, if you're paying."

John stepped out and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall when he got out.

"So, did you just miss me, or are you trying to see if I'm a liar?"

"What?" The jock asked.

"Wanted to see if I was going to be nice to our little club on Monday? I wasn't in school, so you just had to see for yourself?"

"No, man, I just wanted some pizza, thought you'd be free. So, do you want to go or not?"

"Yeah, just-" John accidentally winced as he shifted his weight. "Hold on." He stepped forward, but fell. He dropped to his knees with a groan.

"Bender!"

"Shut the hell up!" John hissed. "Don't say anything." He got up with one hand on the wall of the house and the other arm wrapped around his ribs, then continued walking to the end of the porch and down the stairs. Well, limping. Andy followed, unsure. Bender was obviously hurt, but if the jock brought it up, he'd probably end up hurt himself. Bender was not one to mess with when he wasn't on top of his game.

"So, um, did you get in a fight? Someone talk shit on you or something? I bet he's dead if you're this banged up."

John didn't answer for a second, just walking in silence, shivering in the freezing weather without a proper coat. He didn't seem to mind the cold too much, though. In fact, he was getting more and more calm.

"Yeah, he's dead. He just doesn't know it yet."

Andy nodded. Whoever this guy was, he had no doubt that hurting John Bender would be the last thing he'd do.


End file.
